Morning Calls
by bookworm03
Summary: TonyMichelle, post season 4. Sequel to Just Breathe. Michelle has always enjoyed mornings to herself. Oneshot.


**A/N: **_Just something I spontaneously wrote one night when I couldn't sleep. It's somewhat of a companion piece to "Just Breathe". A little bit angst-ish and a little fluffy…pretty much just a lot of mindless drivel but I decided I might as well post it. Feedback is greatly appreciated. _

Morning Calls

There's a moment just after the sun peaks over the horizon in the early morning and the nighttime shadows have been banished from existence; a moment where the day is new; free from the circumstances that will soon control it. A point where nothing bad has transpired yet and the world waits with bated breath for everyone to emerge and for things to happen.

It's this moment that makes every day worth it, she thinks as she adjusts her tank top, tugs on the brim of the baseball cap she sports, and presses her sunglasses snugly against her nose, before slipping out into the quiet morning light. This is the moment that makes her want to get through whatever life will choose to throw at her for she knows it will come again at the break of a new day. That every time the sun rises in the sky she's being given a second chance...and a third...and a forth...and a fifth... She can start again.

As she steps outside into the light she wipes warm palms against her sweats; bouncing back and forth a little on the balls of her feet; getting a feel for the ground and allowing her muscles to wake up. For a minute she walks leisurely; her mind and body still a little too clouded with sleep to exert themselves any further. The minutes she'd spent awake in bed seemed too few at the time and she was tempted to remain comfy and cozy nestled up beside her husband, instead of dragging herself to her feet to put her body through what she was about to put it through. It's a battle every morning, and has been for as long as she can remember, (save for those few months after she left him...when she had no desire to stay in bed alone with her thoughts...but they don't talk about that anymore). So every morning she lies there, debating whether or not she can afford to take the day off – or if she'll be able to squeeze this regime that's become as natural to her as breathing into her schedule in the evening instead – before ordering herself up and changing into her clothes.

And then...she steps outside, and realizes why she loves this so much.

It's a combination of many things really; those exhilarating first few breaths of cool morning air; the fresh layer of dew on the grass that reflects the sun, making everything glisten; the way her legs burn and sear when she begins to pound the pavement; the feeling of sweat coating her skin and the way her whole body reaches a threshold of emotional freedom where she does not question what the day has in store for her or what will happen when she stops. She just runs.

It makes her feel strong; something she's had to be more or less her whole life. The dull ache in her quads as she hurries down the path and the tightening of her muscles with each new step seems to only emphasize how thick her skin really is... She's in control. This is something she can control; a circumstance that won't find some way to escape her. She's in control of her body; in control of her thoughts, and in control of whatever gets thrown at her...at least for the moment. It reminds her that she's made of tougher stuff than she gives herself credit for sometimes; that she's endured a hell of a lot more than anyone should ever have to and still has the energy to get out of bed in the morning.

For the first time in weeks she feels weightless; unburdened by all that has been tormenting her so. It's been a while since she's been able to let everything go in the way she is now…A long time since she's been able to just…run.

She's felt guilty and still does really; the kind of guilt that eats away at the very essence of her being. She's felt guilty since that day, despite his assurances that she has no reason to. He says she made the right decision; a decision she had to make, and on some level she knows he's right. On another, the decision she made only signifies how, when it came down to the wire, she did not, nor has she ever, loved him as much as he loved her.

This has destroyed her, (a piece of her anyway), because she hadn't realized it until the moment it was too late. She hadn't realized the implications of the choice until he was snatched away from her yet again... And it was that, she knows, that made her stomach clench and her surroundings spin as it occurred to her how it was simply too little...too late...How _she_ was too little, too late.

He's aware of how she feels and tries his best to assure her otherwise; to assure her that he, in no way shape or form, believes she should feel this way. For the first time in a long time it's his turn to be patient with her and her insecurities instead of the other way around.

If it were anyone else she might question (or assume) that despite their comforting words and loving touches they'd resent her for what she did. With him she knows better though. She can feel it when he kisses her in a way that still manages to rock her to the core each and every time; and when he wraps his arms around her and holds her tightly against him, almost to the point of suffocation; when he whispers gentle endearments against her at night, bringing tears to her eyes in a way that makes her feel silly but also makes her realize how much it hurts to ever imagine spending another night without him. He does all these things without inhibition or reservation or even the slightest hesitation and it makes her feel like maybe...just maybe...she does deserve him after all.

For a minute, she stops running. Removing her hat and pushing back a few strands of hair. Her breathing is ragged and her chest strains for air as her pulse gradually slows. It's chillier than normal, she notes of the weather; something she greatly appreciates. Given the choice she'd abandon California in a heartbeat. Too many painful memories...too many problems...everything seems to linger that much longer in the thick, heated air and it's a feeling she can't quite shake. But she made a promise long ago that she'd go anywhere with him, and he's happy for now...The pieces of his life are slowly falling back into place and _they_ are beginning to mesh together seamlessly again, both personally and professionally, in the way they both know they're so damn good at.

She still questions why she hesitated when he asked her to leave her job. He would never have hesitated. He never did hesitate. The decisions he made were made full force; right or wrong, good or bad; they were his decisions and he made them and owned them completely, refusing to overanalyze like she has a horrible tendency to do.

She often wonders if he had had time to think would his choice have been different; would he have been able to rationalize the safety of millions over her life, and knows instantly he never would. She could though...and while on paper her decision was the better of the two, she hates herself for it.

She wants to prove to him how that day changed her; how now she is physically incapable of loving more than she loves him. She loves him with all of her; with everything and more than she's got left to give him and she promises herself she'll find a way to show him this one day; whether he needs proof or not.

She starts to run again and takes a deep, cleansing breath; finding the energy to push through the pain she feels in her muscles and the protests of her body as she rounds a corner to bring her back to their house. She wonders if he's woken up yet...he probably has. He'll probably tease her about getting up early when they don't have to anymore... He'll insist that if she wanted a workout so badly first thing in the morning she could've achieved it without ever leaving the bed, and in a much more enjoyable fashion at that. He'll say it to make her laugh and she'll find herself doing so even though it's the same joke each and every morning and it's well past the point of having grown old. She laughs because he's happy when she does, and he makes cheesy little suggestive comments against his better judgment because he knows it'll get a laugh from her.

That's what they do. They do things they otherwise never would for each other. They give all they can, whether they can afford to or not, for the other person. It makes her happy to think that she, at the very least, can do things like this for him.

No one's outside yet and it seems to magnify everything she loves about the morning a thousand fold. Everyone's tucked away snugly in their beds probably dreading the day to come. She loves the quiet. They never seemed to get enough of it before and when they did it was a bad thing. Silence was bad. The hotel grew silent after a while; everyone stopped talking or moving...Eventually they all just stopped living.

Again, she stops running; only this time it's because her vision has become blurry and she needs a minute; it still hurts to think about it after all. Thankfully now the silence is peaceful, serene; it allows her to clear her mind and rejuvenates her in ways few other things can. She is grateful she can appreciate this again and she is even more grateful he can appreciate it with her.

When she reaches the driveway she allows herself time to relish in the sensation of the sweat dripping down her brow and clinging to her body. The wind wicks the moisture from her skin and she slumps down against the curb just for a minute... Just so she can enjoy her time to herself before the day starts and she has to wait for the moment again.

He's there to meet her when she pushes inside. He's making coffee and spins around only when he hears the door slam shut.

"Hey," she quietly greets him, still a little out of breath.

He turns his attention back to the coffee pot.

"Hey, how was your run?"

She gasps a little and makes her way to the fridge to guzzle down something cold.

"Good..." she's still quiet and he takes note of it this time. Realizing it was not her need for water that was making it difficult for her to speak before.

He would tease her, but there's something different about today. There's something different about the way she's looking at him and the emotion that's splayed across her face. He frowns, and she observes this; realizing he's always known her far too well to get away with something like that.

So she he wraps her arms around him, covering his bare chest with her hot, sticky and gross form; feeling a little mischievous and knowing he'll make a big deal as she does, even if he doesn't really mind in the least. He picks up on the gesture and groans exaggeratedly.

"I'm taking that hat back one day Michelle." he tells her for the thousandth time and she pulls back to roll her eyes at him. He doesn't even wear the hat after all and hasn't since he was a kid. It sits on a shelf in the spare room and when she stole it the first time he, unable to contain the hint of amusement he felt, made her swear she wouldn't do it again.

She moves back against him, placing a few light kisses against his neck and collarbone and sighing happily when he squeezes her more tightly.

"You okay?" he asks, concerned now and removing his hat so he can get a better look at her face. Her throat thickens as the emotions wash over her; as they always seem to do when he looks at her like that.

"Yeah..." she manages, knowing he'll realize immediately what she's thinking about.

He sighs heavily and kisses her bare shoulder, saying nothing for a moment.

"I dunno why you have to go running first thing in the morning..." he begins, needing to hear her laugh now. "There's lots of other things we could y'know..."

When she does he feels better and continues to hold her protectively for a few more minutes before tilting her head back with a gentle tug of her ponytail and cupping her face in his hand; his thumb brushing across her cheek.

They stare at each other for a minute and he smirks slightly before leaning in to press their lips together.

"I should go shower..." she decides when she breaks the kiss. He does not let go for at the moment he feels he can't. He just wants to absorb the feeling of her wrapped up in his embrace; knowing she's there because she wants to be and he can still make her happy.

He's protective in a way he never was before; on a different level. The intensity of this almost scares him but he honestly doesn't want to let her go for fear of what might happen when he does. He's afraid of suffocating her at the same time for fear that she'll leave again if he does. She hates being coddled. He knows she's a fighter and any battles she has are her own.

But right now she doesn't seem to mind the way he's clinging to her. With a sigh she slides her arms around his waist holding him just as tightly. She glances up after a moment and runs her fingers through his hair.

"Come with me?"

He grins and follows her to the bathroom.

"What are you thinkin' about?" he asks as they stand under the water and she leans back against him.

"You." her eyes close and he kisses her cheek.

He chuckles cockily in an attempt to keep the mood light, but feels her tense against him. There's more emotion in her voice than she intended when she speaks the next time.

"You make me feel safe."

He leans forward to see her face afterwards. It's the first time she's ever admitted anything of the sort to him in the entire time he's known her; the first time she's ever admitted that he gives her something that only he can give her, even if he has known all along.

It knocks the wind out of him when he realizes she's tearing up again.

"Don't do that..." he gently reprimands her. She seems to do that a lot these days and he wonders why it is he seems to make her cry all the time now. He never wanted to make her cry.

She spins around in his arms and leans into his chest as he strokes her hair soothingly.

"You're happy, right?" he checks just to make sure, and she laughs intermingled with a sob at the way the question only manages to trivialize what she's feeling.

He smiles into her wet shoulder, pressing his lips against it and mutters:

"Me too." like she couldn't see that already.

Somehow, in the midst of making the bed, Michelle ends up pinned to the mattress, laughing sweetly.

He kisses her firmly and she sighs into his warm, wet lips. It has to be the best feeling in the world, she concludes when he leans in again and for a little longer this time.

The days have been long, the work has been unbearable in more ways than one, and the price they've paid for the life they've finally achieved is far greater than they ever would've anticipated, but it was so, so worth it. Given time, she'll get there eventually; the guilt will slowly dissipate and love will consume her. The cause she's fighting for is just them now; the lives of millions no longer factor into the equation and she doesn't have to worry about that anymore. She'd much rather lie here, wrapped up in his arms and getting lost in trysts of love making that seem a lot more frequent and fill up much more of her time than they used to, not that she minds…

Her lingering thought as he removes her towel completely and slides into her is that maybe today won't turn out so badly after all…She could, most certainly, get used to this every morning.


End file.
